#i mean they can be affected by them but white people make them into some kind of object lesson in racism and

[mywritersmind]

GOOD SIDE - FC43

summary : She hates him, he’s intrigued and doesn’t understand why anyone would distlike him. Franco tries to win Charles’ sister over with coffee and good racing.

listen up : no warnings!! my first franco fic <3

word count : 1067

⋆｡‧˚⋆

All eyes have been on Franco Colapinto for the past three weeks. All eyes including mine.

I watch the boy walk across the pit lane, grinning widely at his team. My arms are crossed in the ferrari garage, Charles is talking my ear off but I'm not even listening.

I miss my paddock best friend. All the boys on the grid are like my brothers, but Logan was genuinely my friend. I didn’t even go to Monza and fucked myself while boycotting because I missed my brother win.

I watch the team embrace the boy. I never realized how young he looks until now. He’s a year older than me, found that out when I was stalking his social media.

Charles noticed my stink eye and nudges me, “He’s a good kid. Don’t be mean!” I know Logan wasn’t performing well. I’m not blind.

But I can’t help but be salty for him.

“I won’t be mean.” I turn to see Alex and Franco walking towards us, I try to walk away but the hoodie for my sweatshirt is grabbed by Charles and I'm yanked backwards.

“Franco, This is my baby sister, Y/n!” Charles swings his arm around me, I roll my eyes and look back at Franco.

He’s cute and as he smiles at me I have a weird feeling that I need to make it stop. I turn to my new favorite william’s boy.

“Alex!” I smile wide and I can see my brother eyeing me already, “Nice Quali! Proud of you.”

He nods, “Appreciate it Y/n.” He glances at Franco, forcing me to say something. I give them what they want and look at him.

“Colapinto, is it?” I blink. “You’ve got an interesting driving style.”

Franco’s smile doesn’t falter. “Interesting enough to earn me P9.” My eyes narrow at him, “Nice to know you were watching me.”

I cross my arms but before I can say more, Charles interrupts me.

He laughs loudly, trying to drown out my voice, “Alright! Don't mind her, Franco, she’s been a little salty recently- well actually she’s always like this.” He shakes his head and leads the men in blue away.

Franco looks back at me as Alex starts talking rapidly, and I swear I’m hallucinating because I think he winks.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m sitting on the pit wall, Susie is talking me through all the little buttons and graphs. Even though I'm Ferrari till I die, Susie is like family and has always been there for me. I feel an unexpected tap on my shoulder which makes me whip around.

I look down to see Franco holding two cups of coffee. “Morning Mrs. Wolff!” He smiles at Susie, then me. I didn’t even know he met her. My eyebrow is already raised, “Mind if I borrow Y/n?”

Susie laughs softly, looking at him then me, “Go ahead.” I get off the chair slowly and he motions for me to take the cup.

“Charles mentioned you liked coffee.” I hesitate for a second, taking the cup. I sip it and mentally groan because I’ve been needing to get some today.

“Buying my affection already, Huh?” I glance at him as we walk down the pit lane. I'm wearing a short, flowy, white dress and a Ferrari cap, happy since it's so hot.

“Don’t be silly, This was free.” I sip my coffee to stop myself from laughing, “I do have to get on your good side somehow.”

I look away from him, “You took my best friend's seat.”

“He lost it.” When I look back at him, he’s already looking at me.

I sigh and keep walking, he catches up quickly, “So… You’re Charles’ Sister.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “You’re sherlock?”

“You’re pretty.”

I let out a dry laugh, “You’re straightforward. I’ve seen three interviews of you flirting and you haven’t even made it to your second race yet.” He laughs and it makes me feel good that I made him do that.

“What can I say? The people love me.” He shrugs and it's my turn to laugh now.

“I’m sure your media crew hates you.”

“I can confirm they definitely do.” He stops when he gets to his garage, “I don’t want you too though.”

I take a breath, “Let’s see how you do in the race and we’ll see.” I hear someone yell his name from inside the garage.

He doesn’t move, “You base all your relationships off of driving results?”

“Relationships?” I scoff as he licks his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now.”

Franco shakes his head, a curl falling into his face, “Not cocky. Just a glass half full type of guy.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I hug Oscar as he walks out of his garage at the end of the day, “You fucking rocked it.” He laughs as I pull back, “Seriously, I'm proud and you beat my brother!”

Charles practically spawns, “We all know your loyalty is not to me.” All the boys have changed and are starting to leave. Carlos disappeared after crashing on the second to last lap but all I can do is smile for Lando who got bumped up to fourth.

Speaking of, Lando joins us with Franco by his side, his mouth running per usual. Everyone starts talking and congratulating Oscar again.

I find Franco by my side, he leans in slightly, “My result good enough for you?”

I look up at the sky, “Pretty good. I hate to say it but… you did well.”

He grins, “Well enough to get your number?”

I look to my brother to make sure he isn’t listening, “You’re playing with fire here, Colapinto.”

“Burn me.” He says it so quick that I almost don’t register the look on his face. He looks at me so genuinely with those hazel eyes and speaks again, “Por Favor? s'il te plaît? Please?”

The ‘Please’s’ makes me laugh. One in Spanish, one in French, and one in English to cover all his bases, “You’re such a flirt.”

“For you.”

“Don’t lie. You flirt with everyone.” I give him a look, he pulls a slow smile.

“If you were mine I'd never look at anyone else again.” Oddly enough, I believe him.

“If I were yours?” I step closer and he nods, “Hm… If I were yours- I think we would see pigs flying.”

He just grins, “I can arrange that.”

[hingefreelester]

Honestly, if i am being unintentionally racist or bigoted in some other way, i would hope people feel like they can call me out on it

[trashlie]

Shinae the Light vs Yui the Shadow

This post heavily discusses episode 138 but also pulls from 170, 179, and 180 and discusses things up to 214, but nothing from the FP epsiodes! 

Earlier today I read this post and it got me thinking a LOT - and trust me that I’m going to ramble about something else shortly outside of this lol - regarding shadows and lighting!

One of the episodes that most deliberately plays with lighting and shadows in a very in your face way is episode 138, where Shinae speaks to Rand about wanting to renegotiate her contract. It’s an interesting episode, because Shinae is met with another side of Rand than the man (the father) who was trying to help Nol. This version of him shuts her down immediately and informs her that he has no jurisdiction over her contract.

As readers, we can deduce that he is speaking this way because Yui is around and he cannot divulge any bit of knowledge that he has been working with Shinae, that there is any sense of relationship there. But also, he isn’t lying in that he can do nothing about her contract. Interestingly, he is in the light where she is in the shadow. He’s not the focus of this moment, but I find that very interesting regardless - Rand is unable to help because he doesn’t have that power. They aren’t on equal footing here. One is in the dark, one has the power of illumination - he knows more intimately than Shinae who and what Yui is.

But my thought is not about Rand but rather Shinae and Yui.

Throughout their conversation, Shinae is in the shadow. She is part of Yui’s trap, in a pit she cannot crawl out of. Yui wields power over her both in the sense of her employer and also as a person who has played with her as prey. Yui, too, is in the shadow. While some light casts on her, she faces away from it and it doesn’t reach her face.

I’ve wondered a lot about Yui and what her situation is, why she is the kind of person she is. I don’t think she’s without reasons - I just think we don’t know enough about her to really know yet. One of the popular theories is that of the Mukoyoshi Theory - that is, that a Japanese family with no male heirs will “adopt” the husband of (one of) their daughter, who will take their last name, rather than she take his. In this case, Yui comes from a Japanese family with a family business and it is deducible that there is no male heir. Hansuke’s family name is Shishido - not Hirahara, which means he’s related by his aunt (and Yui has mentioned her before to him). Rand, who we know is not Japanese, married into the Hirahara family and adopted their name and became a part of their family. Thus, his affair with Nessa is even more of a blight - he has a duty to the Hirahara family. It is his responsibility to not mar their name and upkeep their prestige.

We could do a whole think piece about this, and it really gets into my thoughts on Rand and Yui’s relationship, but to sum it up: it is clear that Yui wants to be the one in control, but must defer to Rand, and that she resents it. This is HER family business. I think she wishes that she was the one in control, and that she could wield that control without having to go through Rand. Yui harbors resentment for a patriarchal society in which she wields no power. There’s a lot to read into re: the way she wields her femininity as a tool, but that’s a whole other post. The point is: Yui resents that she does not have the power she thinks she deserves, the power that she’s capable of, and that fully plays into Shinae.

But, for the sake of this post at this time, it’s essentially that Yui, too, exists in the dark, in the shadows. She can only run this company through others - through her marriage to Rand, through Kousuke, the sole heir. But as powerful and intimidating as she is, she, too, is trapped. She, too, is relegated to the darkness, because it is only from the shadows that she can operate. Yui wears a constant mask, always putting on the front of a concerned mother, a feeble frail lady, a sweet simpering maternal woman. The real Yui lives in the shadows. She’s not allowed to freely be the person she wants to be, she puts on a front for society, for the patriarchy, for the sake of being able to move in the shadows.

Shinae’s objective is to escape the shadow, the prison, the dark. She longs to escape poverty, she longs to escape the prison she turned herself into, she longs to escape the job in which she feels unsafe, the contract that she signed, the agreement she made under false premises. She longs to escape Yui’s reach. And while she can’t escape most of those yet, she still works towards the light. unlike Yui, who has accepted that she belongs to and operates in the shadows and pulls people into them with her, Shinae strives for the light at all times. She wants to be a better daughter, a better friend. She strives to be able to help out her father and create a better life for them. And especially since the black and white formal, Shinae’s inclination towards the right side, the side of light, has grown stronger.

It’s not a bad vs good kind of thing so much as Shinae chooses to work honestly. She’s trying to address the things that scare her - the insecurity she felt about Maya and Rika’s friendship, the quiet plaguing fear that maybe Minhyuk also just tolerated her. She’s had difficult conversations with her father, she has had difficult conversations with her friends. Instead of shirking into the shadows, Shinae moves towards enlightenment. Even if things end, isn’t it better for them to end on good terms, with understanding? Even if she gets hurt, isn’t it better than she gets hurt being honest, than never progress at all? Even if she fails, isn’t it better to make effort than live with regret?

Shinae leaving Yui by way of the light is pointed. Yui’s goal is to pull everyone down with her. If she lives in the shadows, so, too, must everyone else. And the thing about this scene is - I think Yui means it, genuinely. She has a very different way of seeing the world than Shinae and even much of us as readers. Shinae believes in working hard; Yui understands that privilege and connections are more powerful. Yui can see in Shinae the makings of a strong, powerful woman - but power doesn’t have to look one way. For Yui, power is controlling those around her, especially the ones who are meant to have power over her. In a world where men are the all-power, Yui feels powerful when she can manipulate and push them around.

But when she tells Shinae she doesn’t want her to make the “wrong choices” I believe her. It’s just... what does Yui consider to be the wrong choices? Much in the same way that so much of ILY changes based on whose perspective you view it through re: Nol and Kousuke, we the same of Shinae and Yui. Yui is a woman who knows how to make the world yield to you, how to get what you want out of it.

This is a whole other tangent, but because I’m trying to validate my Yui views lol, I believe this is part of what Yui has done with Meg and Alyssa. In fact, I feel like Yui has absolutely treated Meg and her obsession with Kousuke as a joke - what woman demeans herself in such a way for a man? It’s the complete opposite of Yui’s power. Men yield to HER, not the other way around. Is Alyssa a test of her will, to see how much she will bend before she can break? Does Yui hope to find a hidden spine in her, someone who will eventually push back? I think that’s why she has shifted to Shinae - she has the fight and the spirit that Yui wants to mold. Shinae is strong and faces her fears. But she also stands for the complete opposite of Yui, which makes her a fun challenge.

As Shinae moves into the light and leaves Yui to the shadows, Yui makes an attempt to pull her back into them. Or maybe, rather, she’s planted the seed? It’s an ominous moment, Yui’s certainty that there will be a time when Shinae will go running to her, will want her help, her step up in the world. But at this moment, Yui is unsuccessful. Though Shinae cannot renegotiate her contract like she wanted, she still makes the choice to deny Yui’s offering. She will continue her path in the light. She refuses to let Yui pull her down into her shadows.

As much as we view this story as a game of chess between the white and dark side, so much of it gets told through the shadows and the light. Who else spends his time illustrated in the shadows, existing outside of peoples’ view, wearing a mask out in the light? Nol is one of Yui’s prey - he’s learning how to stand on his own feet as himself, but so much of his imagery has been enshrouded in shadows, a victim of Yui for so long that he’s forgotten how to make his way out of the dark, until now.

Shinae has the ability to bring him out of the shadow, to give him the eventual courage to exist outside of the shadows, to allow himself to enjoy the light. Every time he turns away, he finds himself drawn back in. Every moment he’s angled himself away from her in effort to stay where he thinks he belongs, to skulk in the dark, he still ends up moving towards her.

And every time that Nol choose to go towards Shinae, he moves towards the light.

Like literally lol. In the pool, he basked there in the dark, willing to finally throw in the towel accept that peace, but because of Shinae, because of his penance, he chose to move towards the light once again. Maybe he thought it would be for the last time, but we’ve seen better.

Shinae guides him back out of the shadows.

And that brings us to my next post: how Shinae is the true adversary of Yui. 

Really, go read @denjidomination​’s post! It’s got me going off on a whole different tangent than I planned to this week, but I think I’ll be able to get to it before the next update. I’ve said for so long now that Shinae is very likely meant to help bridge Nol and Kousuke, but I think more than that, Shinae is the guiding light for them - that in very different ways, both Nol and Kousuke exist in the shadows and are imprisoned by their circumstances and experiences, and Shinae, I think, is the one who will be able to help them fight back against that darkness. I don’t mean this in a “She will save/fix them” kind of way as much as her presence in their lives, what she means to them, will help them to move from that which holds them down. 

But I have a headache so I have to work on that another time lol 

[spite-and-waffles]

Actually I don't want DC characters to take on real world social issues in any way shape or form. The mere idea makes me break out in cold sweat. Haven't we suffered enough. Please just fight the intergalactic space monkey

[bunnyb34r]

I know I should just block (and not OPEN) tags and posts ab '24 but my brain is stupid and likes to be informed even if it makes me worse

[inkskinned]

even 2 years ago people still said autism with a whisper. it was also how people sometimes whisper lesbian, like they're afraid of uttering a slur. autistic was either an insult or it was something terrible, a horrible burden only select people endure. "select people" were usually 9 year old boys and skinny white men.

they are not hispanic young adults with a dog and a life and friends. i can make (sustained, calculated, painful) eye contact. with certain people, i don't even have to count how many seconds i am holding their vision - i can just look at them. i can wear clothes that bother me, i will just have a worse day than usual. i might cry about any changes to my schedule - but change is scary! this is normal!

when i was 16 it was OCD. i mean that was the thing everyone said. i totally have ocd. they would arrange 6 colors of gel pen in rainbow order (no worry for indigo feeling left out) and they'd be "so ocd" about it.

if you struggle with intrusive thoughts, be careful at this next paragraph, but. at 16 i developed a compulsion that involved self-harm. my ocd was convinced i was simply forgetting that i'd hurt someone terribly - a thought that persisted for no clear or delineated reason.

at some point i will probably write about how the idea of "morally pure thoughts" was hell for me and others with ocd, but this was the odd dichotomy for many of us: they liked our "aesthetic", but were genuinely repulsed by our lived experience. "intrusive thoughts" now means "cutting your hair in the sink" instead of talking yourself down from believing horrible things. "so ocd" is a label without any true understanding.

it's something i've talked about before - in multiplicity - but i firmly believe in the veracity and necessity of self-diagnosis. i think it saves lives and it saves tragedies from occurring. as someone raised in a house that wasn't safe, self-diagnosis was, for many years, the only viable option. 15 and honestly googling: am i depressed or there demons affecting my behavior.

but it is not genuine self-diagnosis anymore, most of the time. it is a strange, blanched version of that whispered word autism. now certain traits are constantly seen as "autistic" - any passing intense interest. any flubbed social interaction. people say it while laughing - a touch of the 'tism.

and i like the acceptance! i do. i like that people are talking about it. i like that if i self-identify, more people speak up and say me too, bitch. but there is something-else quietly happening, the way it happened to OCD. the quirky, "fun" parts have been washed and sanitized and removed of all suffering. now it is just something that makes you "a little bit silly."

it took me 27 years on this planet before i learned to make friends. something about me just seems incredibly odd, i guess, some kind of radiation monitoring. someone once (in a way that was almost friendly) told me i am doing the right things, but in a way that's off-putting. i have scoured myself raw attempting to be charming.

someone on tiktok does a deep dive into their particular passion. the top comment says "what kind of autism is this lol". like we are a breed of animal. like it has no influence on our experience. like our life is a fresh breeze, an open meadow.

more often for me, life was a drowning.

[genderqueerdykes]

if you are a trans man or masc, masculine nonbinary, genderqueer, genderfluid or other gender non conforming identity, masc gay, a bear, a butch, stud, or boi, or other masculine queer person and don't feel welcome in any queer spaces, you're not alone.

the communities both irl and online have become EXTREMELY hostile toward mascs and men to the point of straight up excluding us and changing their wording to justify their violent exclusion. from renaming nonbinary spaces to "femme & them" and "she+" spaces, to telling men & mascs that they would "Scare" the women and "nonbinary" folks just by being there, as if masculinity and manhood are inherently traumatizing to be around.

masculine and male nonbinary folks have it so hard- most nonbinary spaces are almost definitely women's spaces who also conflate womanhood with nonbinaryhood, and often times just view nonbinary people as confused women. we are not inherently traumatizing to be around: masc enbies need places to go. we are still nonbinary and still trans and still queer for fucks' sake

nonbinary has never and will never mean femme or woman-adjacent inherently. nonbinary means what it means: people who don't or refuse to adhere to the gender binary, regardless of what side it is. masculinity is included in this, femininity is not the only way to be nonbinary.

masc queers do not have to bend over backwards to try to be more feminine and thus "less threatening" in order to have places to go. that's dysphoric and just inaccurate to a lot of queer folks' identity and presentation. it blows my mind because it makes no sense, anyway, even within the gay community, hypermasculinity has been present and even sought after by some people who find it very attractive, twunks, hunks, bears... but between the periods in queer history people started viewing masc gay leathermen and kinksters as the ones who were responsible for spreading AIDS and thus removing them from pride parades,

AND the lesbian separatism moment picking up to remove butches & male & masc lesbians from lesbian spaces identity, paving the way for modern rdical femniism, we've only entered a downhill landslide of hating men and mascs and ultimately trying to erase us from the queer community entirely.

the queer community is not the "women & femmes community". the queer experience is broad and vast, it includes a wide variety of masculine and male experiences, as well as genderfluid, multigender, completely ungendered and other gendered experiences. the lesbian, trans, bisexual, nonbinary, gay and general queer communities aren't the "safe place to hide from men & mascs community" like estranged rdfems and terfpilled trans folk like to tell you they are.

this is the QUEER community and it includes ALL forms of queerness, masc, femme, butch, male, neutral, bigender, neutral, and all. he/shes and he/hims and he/theys and he/its and so on are just as much of a part of this communities as she/hers and they/thems. you can't cast a blanket of "inherently abusive" over all men and mascs and one of "inherently abused/incapable of being abusive" over all women and femmes because that just traps you in a fantasy land that doesn't exist AND it prevents mascs and men from getting the help, resources and community they NEED.

men & mascs are hurt and abused by women & femmes every day and we refuse to speak about them because we live under a white cisheteronormal patriarchy and have complaints about how that functions. the complaints are legitimate but assuming that all men and mascs are oppressing all women and femmes and that women can never be oppressive is a false as hell narrative that actively damages people.

enough is enough. this mindset is hurting people. it's leaving masc and male queers to be estranged, harmed and even dead. i care about you if you're being affected by this mentality and these behaviors. you deserve community, safety, and a sense of belonging, you do belong, even if we struggle to form our own spaces due to unjust hatred. we will do our best to band together and keep each other safe. we must

[yeyinde]

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hey sugar~

Can we get some NSFW of either alsstor on his rut? Or reader on theirs~? And "helping eachothrr"

The One Who Cried Deer

Alastor x GN!Reader

TW:ITS 18+!! MINORS GET OUTTA HERE- cockwarming, biting, ruts, Reader is implied to have animalistic traits as well, scratching, semi-public sex.

-🦌 First off, let’s just get say this. Alastor does not like affection, especially of the sexual nature.

-🦌 But when it comes to you, he’s more cuddly and protective. It’s more of a he’s trying to show off, everytime he does he immediately looks over at you and puffs his chest out like an exotic bird.

-🦌 When his rut does get more into the territory of sexual intimacy, he does not hold back. Especially when yours does line up with his once in a blue moon.

-🦌 He won’t let you around anyone during those times and if you are around people he will drag you away and glare at the other poor soul around. Sometimes he spouts out curses and threats.

You sat at the bar slowly drinking some whiskey Husk had given you before he had to go fetch some more from the back. Leaving the almost empty bottle with you just in case you wanted the rest of it. The familiar feeling of static pricking at your skin made something inside of you set aflame. A warm feeling racing from your neck to your cheek as a clawed hand moved to wrap around your waist, fingertips threatening to dig into your hip. Practically pressing his body against yours, “My Love, I need to see you..privately.” He purred into your ear, leaning down to kiss at your neck. You placed the cup onto the bar counter getting up and not making eye contact with Husk who had finally come back holding two boxes full of different booze, Alastor gave him a glare which made the old tomcat flinch and avert his gaze. Husk sighed and turned his back on the display, he was too sober for this.

-🦌 His favorite thing to do while bending you over is mark your neck with bites and hickeys as his nails dig into your hips or sides leaving even more bloodied marks that he gets to happily lick up later.

-🦌 While he doesn’t mean to hurt you, he hates thinking that his own hands would hurt his partner like he hurts others that piss him off. It’s when he’s so far into his rut that he forgets himself and has the mindset of constantly breeding you all night. It’s his animalistic side he promises.

-🦌 He especially loves it when he makes you moan out his name or squeal between your moans and gasps. It just makes him much more eager to get those noises out of your mouth.

Holding your hips as he pounded his cock into you from behind as your hands gripped the back of the couch. Knuckles turning white as you keep yourself up for him, legs shaking as you keep them from buckling under your weight. Mouth hanging wide open as you moan out his name, feeling him push his cock deep into you. His teeth digging into your shoulder as he growls and grunts against you, blood escaping past his lips. Arms starting to shake from the position he had held you in as you squeal for him, body shaking as you feel how his thrusts falter for a second. “More..make more sounds for me, Darling.” He snarled out wrapping his arms around your waist, your blood coating his clawed hands.

-🦌 When he can’t pull you away from work or away from people for too long. He either pulls you into a closet and takes you in there or makes you cockwarm him until you snap and beg him to take you both somewhere private under the guise you weren’t feeling too well.

-🦌 Don’t get me started when you do decide to cockwarm him too, he’s gripping your hips like his life depended on it just to keep you down on his lap. He won’t pay much attention to you but will allow you to cover his face and neck in kisses if you want. 

-🦌 But don’t you worry, when he’s in his rut like this he won’t take long to break especially when you start to move your hips against him. Slowly at first to not rouse suspicion but then going faster until you're practically riding him and keeping his hands off of you. 

Alastor gasped out sending a half hearted glare up at you, tears in his eyes as you bounced down against his cock. Hands cupping his face as you kiss him carefully moans leaving your lips, his hands wrapped around your thighs as his tongue eagerly pushes into your mouth. In a flash your back pressed against your mattress as he started to thrust his cock deep into you, hands above your head as he listened to your loud moans of his name between his deep grunts and moans. His belt buckle clinking against his legs as he tugged you closer to him, claws digging into your wrists as he leaned his head down to mark your neck up to make sure everyone knew who was making you feel so good.

-🦌 Once his ruts or your rut wears off, the everloving gentleman your lover is, he runs you a bath. He won’t ever get into it with you, something he made very clear but he will help wash your hair or massage your shoulders. Once out of the bath, he will patch up any scratches you had gotten. He wants you to keep the bite marks uncovered but he will disinfect them for you.

-🦌 He won’t talk about his rut or your rut as it’s something he doesn’t like to talk about. He won’t stop you from talking about it but if he hears you breathe a word about how needy he was, he will deny it until you drop it and then you’ll be in bigger trouble. But if you respect his wishes and not breathe a word he’ll be a little more thankful. Either way he brings you to a nice dinner a night later to thank you for helping him out.

-🦌 All in all if your respectful to him and his wishes, he will return the favor tenfold especially during and after his rut. He appreciates you more than you know and more than he lets on.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part three

646 words

one two

Eddie is wearing a white shirt. It wouldn’t be weird if Steve wasn’t so sure that the boy was allergic to color. 

Steve pauses his chewing. He turns to Carol where she sits next to Tommy across from him. “Is white a color?”

She looks at him in boredom. “It’s a mix of all of the colors.”

Steve shares a confused glance with Tommy before nodding slowly. “...Right.”

Anyway, his point stands - Eddie is wearing a white shirt. He also seems to be back in high spirits and it wasn’t until Steve walked in and saw him in a heated discussion with his buddies at his table that he realized how much he missed the boy’s usual energy.

For as sure as he was that Eddie didn’t not want his notes, it’s relieving to know he’s probably fine. The realization draws him out of his head a bit and puts it all into a better perspective. The world doesn’t revolve around him. 

Over the weekend, Steve invites Tommy over to hangout and when he shows up, he has Carol with him. Steve idly wonders how long that’s gonna last. Tommy has been interested in her for a while. She made him work for it and honestly, Steve thinks they’re perfect for each other. 

He'd thought that whenever they made it official, that Tommy would be spending less time with Steve. If anything, though, the opposite is true. Tommy seems to hang around Steve more now than ever. He goes on and on about what he and Carol get up to, and Steve finds it kind of odd but assumes his friend is just excited. Still, Steve truly doesn’t need to know every detail from when Tommy and Carol hooked up under the bleachers. 

Steve has always gotten along with Carol in school. She’s a bit bitchy but that only means she can keep up with him and Tommy just fine.

The weekend isn’t half-bad but come Monday, Steve is revved up. He’s already had his note written for days. 

He delivers it without a hitch and excitedly waits. 

Eddie it’s hard to look away from you sometimes, i never would if i could get away with that without getting my ass kicked you don’t seem to care what people think about you or the things you like and i find that really impressive i wish i was more like you your books always look really interesting, do you have a favorite? -H

Steve wonders how hard it would be to get his schedule changed so he has at least one class with Eddie in the morning, too. 

Then he comes to his senses and realizes that would make him insanely creepy and weird. Which makes him wonder if he’s already doing that. 

He spirals. 

What if Eddie had looked so troubled because he doesn’t want to be receiving notes from some random person he doesn’t even know, what if the reason he seemed back to normal on Friday is because he’s resigned to live with the unwanted affection, what if he hasn’t even been reading the notes and he just tosses them immediately, what if, what if, what if.

He goes through his morning classes in a fog that only dissipates when he walks into the cafeteria and sees him.

Eddie is reclined in his chair with his ankles crossed and propped on the table in front of him. When Steve walks past him, he hears the boy whistling obnoxiously and rolls his eyes fondly. It's only when he takes his seat and risks another look that he spots the book in Eddie's hands. The boy is making a show out of reading it; he has the book so close that it's covering his entire face.

Steve thinks it's strange until he remembers his note this morning.

It turns out Eddie's favorite book is The Hobbit.

four

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie

@dreamy-jeans137 @justdrugsformethanks @estrellami-1 @travelingtwentysomething @sleepy-steve

@wheneverfeasible @bisexual-and-broke @lil-gremlin-things

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[faeriekit]

I feel like you’ll appreciate this flavor of feral brain rot as a true delicacy.

Ghostly Courting 101

1.) When you have someone you like, you politely sneak into their haunt and leave a gift that hints at your identity. If they’re interested, they’ll start hunting for you. If not, it’ll be removed without the other party feeling any societal pressure.

2.) For ghosts who died a violent or wrongful death, one of the most meaningful things you can do is avenge them. Attack their murderer, haunt their negligent doctor, etc. It’s not guaranteed to win their affection, but it’s a hell of a display.

Now, per the laws of unintended consequences, Danny finds Red Hood rearranging his freezer.

It’s 3:00 AM. He just wanted some water. Why is Gotham’s favorite son trying to leave him a fuck off huge casserole?

“Are you trying to propose or something?” Danny asks the liminal.

“Maybe???”

“Ghost weird or fruitloop weird?” Danny snatches his boo-berry ice cream and starts digging for a spoon.

Red Hood takes off his helmet to make sure Danny can see the Eyebrow of Judgment.

“Fruitloop then,” he says between bites. “We haven’t even sparred, and I sure as shit didn’t avenge you or anything.”

Oh. Oh no.

“Hood, why are you blushing?”

He couldn’t make out much from the outraged sputtering, but Danny nearly shat his fucking core out when it clicked.

“Is this about Joker???”

Danny was gonna take the stuttering as a yes.

Cool, cool, cool. He was calm. He was so fucking normal, it was fine, it was fine, it was—

Ancients take him, Danny beat the shit out of this guy’s murderer or something. He basically did a fucking flash mob proposal!

“Why the fuck am I even here?!” Red Hood screamed.

And the other guy’s fucking clueless!

I see, I see.

1: Which casserole. This is important. What casserole could the hindbrain of Jason Peter Todd's ghost instincts think is marriage material?? Is this like a comfort food can-of-cream-of-mushroom based casserole dish or like one of those newfangled sushi bake type things?? What did Jason whip out to prove he's marriage material??

2: What does JASON think is going on?? Did he hunt Danny down?? Did he just wake up in a stranger's apartment with a casserole in his hand?? Did he go to the grocery store with a list in mind or did he get home and realize he (for some reason) had every ingredient to make tuna casserole??

3: Wait. So does this mean that Jason thinks that casseroles are a good enough hint at his identity??? Does some part of Jason think that his most essential and core part of his identity is his tendency towards caretaking?? YO—

4: It's in a vintage pyrex. Look me in the eyes. This is not just Pyrex it's gotta be the old style pyrex that doesn't shatter in the oven without a pan underneath it. I am a connoisseur of white people culture and this is deeply important to me. It could even be one of the patterned ones. This is part of the gesture.

5: Danny is emotionally moved and it sucks considering that this was a complete accident

6: Jason is emotionally moved and has no idea what the fuck is going on. He wakes up at his safehouse one morning with bridal magazines in his hands which he apparently bought himself?? He's going insane. Is he cursed?? Did that twink who kicked the Joker's ass curse him??????? Curse him into...matrimony???????????????????

[gravid-transluna]

In the Name of Science

words: 7627

content: birth denial, clothing birth, mutual birth, fpreg

Co-written with the wonderful and endlessly imaginative @shhhsecretsideblog

First entry into the Spell-verse, a series of stories revolving around a town blanketed by a rapid pregnancy and birth spell.

The news already had coined a name for it. Go figure, Char thought, shaking her head at the display of pure pseudoscience on the screen before her.

“Yes, that’s right,” a reporter spoke. “Emergency services have taken a census and The Spell seems to have affected every person able to bear children in the town.”

“The Spell,” Char scoffed, shaking her head. “Call it a virus, a fluke of biology, whatever. Just don’t chalk it up to magic.”

Because if it was magic, that would mean her science would be ineffectual on the obvious life growing inside her belly, now looking full-term with a baby that she hadn’t been pregnant with this morning. It rippled, hanging low between the scientist’s thighs. She placed a palm on her stretched tummy. The evidence, she thought, speaks for itself.

“Shouting at the tele again Char?” Laura said as she waddled into their lab. Her long white coat hung open at her sides, her own newly formed bump making the coat too small to fit round her frame.

“Got you a coffee.” She passed the hot drink to her boss and went over to sit on the stool by her own workstation. It took a bit of navigating, still not used to this extra weight she now carried, but eventually she plumped herself on the high metal chair.

“I mean, they aren’t wrong calling it ‘The Spell.’ What’s happening here is unheard of. All these pregnancies are popping up very much like magic.” Laura rubbed the circumference of her large belly that now sat heavily atop her thighs. She could feel the baby moving inside, it was so strange. Pregnancy and birth was never something she thought she’d experience. She understood it, she knew all about the process, but it was something else entirely actually experiencing it. And going through it all within the space of a day was a bit of a rollercoaster.

They’d done scans and knew they were carrying human babies, it wasn’t anything supernatural or alien, but it was just the speed, it was unprecedented. The baby in her womb shifted and kicked her in the ribs “Oof!” She huffed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this.” Laura commented to her boss.

Char nodded, smothering the instinct to cup her own belly as devoted her attention back to her work.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to. We’ll find a way to reverse the process without delivery and things will—“ she paused, startled by a twinge in her stomach muscles and the subsequent squirming of the baby inside her. She cleared her throat. “Things will return to normal and we can take the time to research this phenomenon thoroughly.”

Secretly, Char’s urgency stemmed from another reason—already she’d struggled to adapt to the feeling of her body so unrecognizably changed, the idea of a passenger inside her, her body growing and stretching to accommodate it without any of her say in it. Even the tiniest signs of motherhood she steadfastly resisted, trying not to waddle or hold her heavy mound, wearing her usual lab wear instead of anything more comfortable. Yet—

She knew this was nothing compared to birth. She also knew that they were on a strict time limit. Shaking her head, she dispelled these thoughts. ‘We don’t have to worry about that. All we have to worry about is finding a cure,’ she thought.

“You really think we can find a cure before these babies are born?” Laura asked hesitantly. She knew how her boss was handling this sudden change in their bodies, and it wasn’t very well. Not that she’d admit it. She disappeared quickly into the work when it first started happening to people and completely ignored the signs this morning that it was happening to them both as well.

“I’ve heard that some people are already starting to give birth… we might not have the time. Not before these ones are born anyway.” Laura patted her bump affectionately. She wasn’t fighting this as much as her boss. Yes it was a shock, but Laura was leaning into the experience, it was fascinating.

She noticed her belly start to twinge, felt similar to period pains. Laura shifted in her chair, trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling, her legs widening on the stool to fit her rounded stomach in between. “Have you had any twinges or cramps or anything?” Laura asked.

Char glanced at Laura, absorbing the gravity of her condition, the way her midsection protruded from her open lab coat and her discomfort that so mirrored Char’s own. “Nope,” she lied easily, convincing herself that it was the weight she was now carrying, that the pressure in her hips and the aching of her back was all because of the new load in her belly.

“Well, I’m not exactly hasty to get these babies out the old-fashioned way,” Char said.

A part of her shared sentiments with Laura, though. Call it a scientific curiosity, but the process of birth was quite a marvel. Another cramp seized her belly and she stiffened slightly, bearing it without note. Her own belly hung low, having dropped without her realizing, but Laura’s taut, overhanging swell was immediately apparent to her.

How about you?” She asked while peering into a microscope.

“I’m not sure… I’m feeling something… oof—” Laura took a sharp breath as the ache peaked before easing off again. “It’s probably just my body adjusting to the quick pregnancy. I’m not in a hurry to give birth myself.”

She didn’t want to say it but the rate at which their stomachs had swelled, Laura didn’t think they would have long before the pangs of labor hit. It was difficult to ascertain how “far along” they were, given the speed in the growth, but judging by the bumps alone Laura guessed her and Char were developing at the same rate.

“We better work fast then, before either of us goes into labor.” Or both of us, Laura thought to herself.

Char pressed her lips together at the reminder, and without knowing she palmed the underside of her swollen stomach, attempting to soothe the tightened muscles.

“Yes, right. Could you come over here and we can analyze these lab reports together. Bring the files from the corner bench, please.”

Her back ached, yet she was too restless to sit and besides, she always worked while standing. She’d be damned if she let this baby inside of her intrude on her routine.

“Sure thing.” Laura said to Char’s instruction. Holding her taut stomach, Laura slipped off the stool onto her feet and waddled over to the corner bench to pick up the files.

Standing seemed to have jolted her baby, feeling the weight sink lower into her hips as it kicked. A sudden sharp tightening slashed across her belly causing her to gasp and grab on to the table. “Mnngh!” She groaned as the muscles pulled and squeezed, its intensity surprising.

“Char… hooo… I think I might be having a con-contraction…” Laura panted through the pain, hips instinctively swaying beneath the white lab coat.

Char snapped her head up from the microscope to see Laura doubled over, clutching the table. With her back flat, her weighty belly seemed to strain toward the ground, dragged downward by gravity. Char watched as Laura swayed her hips in an almost hypnotic pattern, as though instinct had taken over. Her panting, even, seemed instinctual, the sounds of an imminent mother.

“Laura? Hey—“ Char struggled to walk without a waddle, across the room to Laura. She was stopped by a squeezing in her tummy that took her breath away, the entire surface hardening painfully. She dismissed it before it even ended. ‘Braxton Hicks,’ she thought. ‘No big deal. I have time…. Laura, I’m not so sure.’

She placed a palm on Laura’s lower back and she breathed and swayed. “You’re okay,” she said, her usual brisk tone softening. “Just breathe.”

“Hoooo-hoooo…..” Laura forced herself to take measured breaths, in and out, breathing through the sudden pain. Her head dipped and her eyes scrunched, the weight and pressure suddenly peaking before gradually fading away. Slowly the assistant straightened back up and faced her friend (?) and boss.

“Jeeze, that was… intense.” She breathed, rubbing the underside of her belly. “I wasn’t expecting that to come on so fast. Guess I’m in labor. I’ll start running a log of all my symptoms so we can add to our research.” She picked up the earlier requested files and handed them to her boss, noticing a slight glistening of sweat on Char’s forehead. “You still doing okay?”

Char nodded, appearing uncharacteristically distracted. She made an effort to straighten her back, feeling the clamping around her womb subside for now.

“Fine,” she said. Then, appreciative of Laura’s dedication to their studies, “Good work, Laura. If it gets to be too much for you, let me know. Until then, we’ll work around the clock and develop a cure before you progress too far.”

And, before I do as well, Char added to herself.

Noting Laura’s significantly widened stance and the way she stroked and circled her dropped belly, Char felt a twinge of apprehensiveness.

As they worked, fighting the clock, Char listened to Laura’s pained breaths become sharper. Eventually she began to vocalize, softly at first, closing her eyes and rocking her body back and forth, making slight grunts and moaning under her breath.

Char wasn’t in a much better state. Her contractions had grown into strong, regular surges and every time her belly seized up she could only focus on it and the baby inside it preparing to be born. Born, she thought. Not if I can help it. Her familiarity with the process and inevitability of birth did nothing to halt this line of thinking. Yet with each contraction she felt like nothing else existed but her swollen, contracting belly. She released a breath after a particularly brutal one. There was so much pressure. She felt it deep in her hips, wanting so badly to open herself up all the way.

Laura let out a pained groan herself, and Char glanced up.

“H-how are you, mm, holding up?” She asked the other laboring woman.

“As w-well as can be expected… hoooo…” Laura held her heavy belly with one hand, the other leant on her workstation as she swayed through the pain. “They are really picking up now Char, oof, the pressure is a lot.”

The lab assistant had abandoned her chair a while ago, finding the most comfortable position was to stand at her desk as it allowed her to follow her body’s rhythm and its instinct to move. Plus the baby was sinking way too low to be sitting down on that ridiculous high stool. She had spent entire days on that chair working before The Spell, but that idea seemed downright ludicrous to Laura now.

Their research seemed to be slow moving, and it wasn’t entirely down to the fact she was in labor, the science just wasn’t providing them with answers, still proving to be a mystery. She’d been keeping track of her contractions, which were getting dangerously closer together and time was running out.

Whilst the waves of pain coursing through her body every five minutes were consuming, Laura wasn’t oblivious to the fact her boss was also struggling. Perhaps it was because of her own labor she could recognise the signs; the way Char kept moving around the lab and never stayed still, her heavy breathing and occasional moan, and the way her hips would shift and bounce when she thought Laura wasn’t looking. Yup, her boss was almost certainly in labor too. But Laura knew better than to ask her outright.

“Are you feeling okay Char? You’ve been on your feet for quite a w-while now..”

Char tried to imagine sitting and found she couldn’t, with the baby dropped so low, the head pressing heavily on her cervix. She knew from the strain in Laura’s voice and her repeated movements around the room that she was feeling the same pressure and slowly increasing urgency. She wanted to moan, openly sway and rotate her hips against the excruciating pressure, to release instinctual grunts with her contractions like Laura. But, not yet. She couldn’t be in active labor.

“Just frustrated,” Char growled. “We’ve barely made progress and this current batch of tests has yielded no results whatsoever…. mmgh!” She winced, closing her mouth so as not to cry out as a contraction clamped her midsection.

“Also,” she added. “I might—urgh, be experiencing some Braxton Hicks.”

“Oh… braxton hicks… okay.” Laura acknowledged calmly, knowing full well there was nothing false about the pains plaguing Char. “Just try and b-breathe through them. They’ll soon pass. You can move around you know, follow your body’s instincts if you need to, I’m sure it would help with the, errr—false labor pains.”

They continued working in relative silence, except from the unusual noises Laura found herself making through the pains. She thought she heard her boss whimper, and asked “Is there anything I can do to h-help?”

Not that she was capable of doing much, the pains were so strong now she could barely do anything other than catch her breath between waves. Laura stayed close to her work bench, not daring to move too far for fear she’d crumble to the floor. Her bump hung heavy and low off her hips, her baby was pressing hard against her cervix clearly marking its exit. A particularly forceful contract had Laura folded over against the bench, forearms on the white surface, hips jutting back, and her head buried in the crook of her elbow. Her groans had turned more primal, the pressure building to the point she almost mooed like a cow. Something was slipping down, she could feel it. With a grunt Laura felt something give and the immediate dampness that followed trailing down her leg.

“Ummm… Char? Hoooo… I think my water broke.” Laura whimpered into her arm, not daring to move.

Char turned when she heard Laura’s animalistic groans and grunts, undeniably the noises of a woman deep in labor. She saw Laura standing wide-legged, a wet patch forming on her lab trousers and puddling the floor beneath her. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and Char knew she was feeling the same pressure against her widening cervix as herself, increasingly overcome with the sensation of the head moving into position, the instinctive need to open herself up for the baby getting ready to come out of her.

“Laura—! Hooo um, okay,” Char faltered, taking large waddling steps to Laura and cursing the weight in her pelvis and the unwieldiness of her belly. .Normally in control of the situation, she felt lost at the sight of Laura’s waters puddled on the floor. This was an uncontrollable variable. No matter how much they wanted to keep their babies in, once their bodies decided it was time there was little they could do. But Char wasn’t ready to give in yet.

“I’ll, mmgh, find you some towels,” she promised Laura.

In the hallway she suffered another contraction, and found herself vocalizing freely without Laura around, lowing insistently and arching her back. Without knowing, her knees bent slightly, beginning to sink into a squat. She realized what she was doing and tried to hold herself upright against the hallway wall, but by then the contraction was upon her and she felt a sudden burst of fluid from between her legs.

“Oh…. shit,” she murmured, panting hard.

When she returned with the towels, she met Laura’s gaze and knew that they were both feeling the urgency of birth. They were almost out of time.

The contraction had waned when Char left the room and Laura slowly righted herself and breathed quietly, taking stock of the situation, letting her body adjust and working with the new sensations. The baby was definitely on its way, there was no doubt about that. The breaking of her waters had helped ease the excruciating pressure which had been building, but Laura became more keenly aware of the shape of the baby in her womb without its cushioning.

Taking deep and steady breaths, Laura tried to calm her mind and body. It was during this almost meditative state that she heard the unmissable sound of a woman in deep labor from the corridor. She knew exactly who it was.

Char was a very methodical woman, set in her ways, but she was strong and determined which was a necessity in this field of work. Laura respected her immensely. But it was no surprise to the assistant that her boss was fighting this and seemingly was fighting it to the very end. At some point Char would admit she was in labor, she would have to if she was going to birth her baby. Laura just hoped she would be able to help Char through it when the time comes, and not be consumed by her own birth.

When Char came back she was flushed and sweaty, but gritted a smile as she passed Laura a towel. Laura noticed her boss kept one for herself… strange.

Laura threw the towel on the floor and used her foot to wipe the liquid that was now puddled at her feet. Her trousers were wet but she didn’t want to take them off, she might have known Char for years but wasn’t quite ready to be walking around half naked in front of her boss.

“This baby is definitely coming, I can feel its head right down in my pelvis.” Laura announced, cupping the underside of her large swell almost trying to hold it up. “How are you holding up Char through your… practice contractions?”

Even without her announcing it, Char could tell how close Laura was to birthing her baby, her stance and dropped belly unmistakable as signs of her imminent birth. Laura, she knew, was dependable, and though Char would rarely admit it, she relied on Laura and her stability and her easier personality tended to balance Char’s own stubbornness. Her patience was beginning to wear Char down, and she almost admitted then. The head was huge against her dilated cervix, and she could feel it oriented, ready to descend. Everything was moving painfully downwards. She could no longer even pinch her knees together, so wide was her gait. It felt as if the baby would drop out of her if she spread too wide.

“I-I think I’m, I’m in—“ Char was cut off by another contraction, doubling over with an urgent grunt, so unlike her normally composed and cool attitude. “Ohhhh,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut as the contraction began to peak and she clutched blindly at her rigid, taut belly.

“Oh Char…” Laura said, waddling over to her boss, keeping one hand on a bench for support. “I think you’re in labor, hun.”

Char was completely doubled over, clutching her large and heavy belly, and grunting wildly. There was no way she could keep denying her situation now surely. Laura put a hand on Char’s back and rubbed up and down her spine in support. “It’s okay, just breathe through the contraction. Slowly, don’t panic, in and o-outttt…”

Laura was cut off by a contraction of her own, and without her waters it was aggressive and forceful. She immediately spun around, grabbing the nearest bench, and groaned deeply as she fell into a slight squat. The baby was slamming against her cervix, squeezing its way into her birth canal, and Laura had no choice but to push with the force of the contraction.

She tried not to panic, to stay calm, but the head filling her canal was almost making her nauseous. She wanted to tell Char but couldn’t speak, not that her boss could do anything as she was dealing with a contraction of her own right now. The only option left was to ride the wave, and follow her instincts.

Over the din of her own uncontrollable noises Char could hear Laura’s straining groans as she bore down fiercely, primal with the urgency of a birthing mother. Char tried to change her posture but the feeling of the baby descending, pressing down forcefully against her cervix was too much for her to bear standing, and she clasped her hands on her thighs as she squatted, desperate for relief. The contraction peaked, and though she tried to control her breathing, sucking in air at first, by the ends of her breaths she found herself grunting slightly. She gave a gasp, realizing that she was pushing. No! No, no! She thought desperately. You’re a scientist. This is your lab, and you have control. Try as she might, it was impossible to assert control over her laboring body. Her baby was coming, and she was pushing. Still, she tried to resist the urge to push, panting and blowing as the pressure grew and her back flared with pain.

Laura’s contraction seemed to subside a little before Char’s, and Char saw her belly visibly heave as her uterine muscles relaxed. She let out a grunt as the contraction released her. They made eye contact as Char’s contraction began to fade as well. Char shifted her gaze.

“We…. w-we,” she panted, trying to regain her breath. “We have to find this cure. Right now.”

“Char…. Even if we do find a c-cure… what do you t-think is going to happen?” Laura said sternly as she heaved herself back to standing. “These babies,” she patted her bump and also Char’s for effect, “are coming and no cure is going to make them disappear.”

Laura had seen the way Char literally squatted to the ground and pushed, and her clothes were also damp on her bottom half. “I’m saying this as both your friend and colleague, you are in labor just as much as I, and we should prepare for their arrival.”

Laura waddled awkwardly, bowlegged, back to her desk and grabbed a drink of water. Still panting after the latest contraction, she picked up a pen and carried on making notes. “I’ll help you as much as I can, noting everything down about this rapid pregnancy, tracking my symptoms and experience, but we’re going to be giving birth soon. Both of us.”

Char glared weakly as Laura patted her belly. She’d known Laura to be one of her only lab partners to actually stand up to her or challenge her, but even then she was firmly gentle. This was no different except of course so steeped in labor herself Laura had a bit more edge to her, biting just a little. She knew how Laura was feeling. Their babies were so low, pushing heavily into their canals and forcing their bodies to deliver, and she wanted nothing more to stop what she was doing right now, squat down, and let it come. Magic or science, Char and Laura were experiencing their most natural, primal instincts.

But—she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. No, this was HER body. An intruding passenger wouldn’t change that, even as it inched its way through her birth canal and demanded she work hard and concentrate on nothing but pushing it out. Char made a laborious effort to straighten somewhat, though her stance wasn’t much narrower than Laura’s own bowlegged waddle.

“Not, urgh, yet,” Char said. “I’m not having this baby. Mmm…. hoo, I’m grateful to you, Laura, for holding it together for this long. But you n-need to deliver. Please, don’t burden yourself. I’ll finish this cure on my—hmnh, hm. My own.”

She painstakingly toddled to her research table, lifting the hefty weight of her belly as though it would keep the baby from dropping any further.

“Okay, do whatever you wanna do Char.” Laura resigned herself to losing this argument. Her boss was determined but this was next level, bordering on complete denial. Well if Char was feeling even half the sensations Laura was, she’d succumb to this birth soon enough.

Laura needed to prepare for the imminent birth, her recent pushing was a sure sign the baby was close. Slowly, and whilst always holding on to something, the assistant rummaged through the drawers and cupboards in the lab. “Do we have anything we could use for clamps to cut the cord?” She asked aloud, not really expecting an answer from her disgruntled colleague. “Ah, this could work.”

She collected the equipment she’d need to clamp and cut the chord on her desk, and moved the towel on the floor with her feet again mopping up the new liquid that she’d trailed across the floor, not realizing she was still leaking. “I’m gonna go get some more towels.” Laura again spoke aloud but knew her boss had disappeared into her own world.

Laura barely made it to the doorway when another contraction struck, and damn they were close together. Her fingers gripped the wooden frame as her body sank downwards again, the pressure building and building between her legs. “Mnnnghhhhhhhh!!!” Laura grunted, muscles contracting and squeezing the large head further through the birth canal, to the point she could feel herself start to open slightly. “Nghhhhhhh the head…. I can feel it…” Laura mewled as she squatted.

Char listened to Laura’s preparations in the background, doing her best to tune out both Laura’s words and the feeling of a massive head lodged in her birth canal, stretching her from within. Her legs trembled, nearly buckled even without a contraction. She resented herself for pushing but knew from her last contraction that she wouldn’t be able to help from bearing down again. The urge to push, the pressure, it was blurring her vision, and her head pounded dizzyingly. A mantra repeated in her head: ‘Hold it in. Just hold it in a little longer.’ Her stomach felt like a hard stone weighing on her middle even without a contraction. She tried to focus, pulling herself into a chemical analysis of her own birthing fluids she’d swabbed from the towel.

Suddenly, she heard Laura’s loud grunting and her attention was drawn to the doorway to see her assistant bent and squatted, pushing hard into her trousers. She felt a tug of concern.

“Laura? Hun, you okay—?”

The head, she thought. Oh god, she’s still wearing her work trousers.

Before she could even take a single step towards Laura, she felt another contraction grip her. “Oooof,” she grunted deeply. Her knees began to give out and she was forced into a squat even as she tried to remain standing. Gripping the table for dear life, she groaned and growled. Don’t push, she thought. Don’t—

“Ohhhh.” The head shifted down. Her powerful internal muscles shoved it through. “OH—I’m—I-I’m pushinggggg, mmmmgh!”

Laura was consumed by the sensations thrumming through her entire body, it was as if something primal was happening to her - new and unfamiliar, completely out of her control, and yet her body seemed to know what to do. Her knees widened and she sunk deeper into the squat, opening her hips as much as she could. Leaning into the contraction, using it, Laura pushed the heavy weight down. It felt… productive. She knew it was what she should be doing.

The location wasn’t ideal, and she hoped she still had time to collect more towels and set up a more comfortable birthing area. But whilst the contraction raged, Laura submitted to it, letting it work her baby down, slipping further and further towards its exit.

Somewhere in the distance she heard her name being called. After a long push Laura gulped a breath and turned her head to see Char squatting at her desk and crying out that she was pushing. She would laugh if her body hadn’t forced her into another push.

They needed to get set up and quick, Char looked like she was suffering just as much as Laura was. When the contraction waned just a bit, Laura stopped pushing and somehow managed to haul her body back to standing. Char looked okay, well as she could given the situation, riding out a contraction and holding on to the sturdy frame of her workbench.

“I’m getting more towels, hang on Char!” Laura shouted, hoping her boss would hear over the groans Char was making.

Waddling ever so slowly, the head sitting right behind her lips, Laura went off to the cupboard to find more towels. They’d soon need them.

Another contraction struck mere minutes after the last while Laura was in the cupboard but she was not as successful this time in staying on her feet. The force of the contracting muscles and slashing pain splitting her open brought her to her knees. She clung on to the shelf in front of her, her heavy belly squished between widened thighs, and she pushed hard wailing with the effort. The head was peaking through, pushing apart her folds in her underwear. But her body was driving this journey, Laura was just the passenger. After a solid minute the contraction let up and when she released the push with a gasp, the baby slipped back into the birth canal. With a trembling hand she felt the fabric between her legs, she was definitely bulging, but the head wasn’t crowning just yet. She breathed deeply, gathering her strength before getting back on her feet. She needed to get back with the extra towels, not just so she could birth her baby there but so she could help Char. She’d need a friend and the support right now, and so could Laura.

As Laura submitted, pushing freely and loudly as though nothing else mattered in the world except getting her baby out and getting it out now, Char resisted her baby’s inevitable birth. Panicked, she gulped in a breath, trying to ease up on her furious pushing as she felt the head filling her opening thoroughly. It was beginning to bulge her, though her lips remained shut. The pressure and incredible sensation of the head sitting low at her opening, almost ready to exit, was almost too much to bear. She mooed deeply, from the back of her throat. Her belly tightened even harder than before, squeezing her like a vice and she couldn’t help but push again. The baby strained against her opening, and she could feel her most delicate area distending obscenely.

“Oh god!” She cried, throwing her head back as her thighs spread and she pushed again and again uncontrollably. The urge was undeniable. She was subject to her body and right now, it was telling her to birth her baby. Here, now, into her trousers. She felt helpless. Out of control.

“It’s coming,” she moaned. “Ohhh, it’s coming!” She knew this deeply, intuitively, with an age-old maternal instinct. She was ready to birth her baby. But she felt alone and vulnerable.

“Laura,” she gasped, couldn’t say much more than that. “Laura, oh god, it’s coming and I’m pushing! I need to hold it in! Just a little longer!”

She could hear Char’s wailing from the corridor, becoming fast apparent the lead technician was losing her fight against the inevitable. With one arm carrying a load of towels, the other hand pressed against the wall as she waddled heavily back to the office. On walking into the room she saw her friend and colleague in a deep squat, white-knuckling the work bench, chin to chest and pushing. Loudly.

“Oh Char, it’s okay hun.” Laura shut the door behind her and dropped the towels beside her friend. “You have to breathe as well as push darling.” She said as she staggered to her own workbench and grabbed the medical supplies she’d collected. With the baby playing peek-a-boo into her underwear, Laura knew their time was almost up.

Cumbersomely, Laura got down to her knees beside her boss, putting the clamps and scissors on the pile of towels. “Shhhhh it’s okay Char, don’t fight it. Use that contraction and push with the pain.” Laura rubbed a hand up and down Char’s back, trying her best to support and encourage through this.

Unfortunately with their labors progressing in tandem, Laura’s role as carer was snatched away when the next contraction tore its way across her midsection. Instinctively, without intending to, her body was pushing with the pain and she could feel the baby start to leak through again and stretch apart her lips. She went to all fours and rocked, sinking backwards towards her heels whenever she had to bear down.

“Mnnnnghhhhhhh! Come on baby….” She groaned before gasping another breath and pushing hard again. She didn’t care that she was still in her work clothes, or that she was on the floor of a laboratory that was covered with two lots of amniotic fluid, she was simply following her instincts and soon the baby stopped slipping back in and stayed, keeping her lips in a perfect oval shape.

“Ohhhh god… I think it’s starting to c-crownnnn….” The assistant managed to huff when the contraction eventually dulled.

Char’s belly refused to fully relax at this point, now constantly flexing with forceful surging contractions, but there were brief moments of respite where she could pause in her pushing and some awareness returned to her. Laura, she realized, was beginning to tent her pants with pushing, on all fours with her back arched and her hips shoved forward, trying to make as much room for the large crowning head as possible. She was pushing the head into her clothes, Char realized, bulging them ridiculously, and between her spread thighs more fluids dripped and leaked. At the same time she processed this she realized that her own clothes had never been discarded, but she made no effort to remove them in her precious few moments before her body would force her baby further out of her. Instead she clung onto the naive hope that she’d miraculously stumble upon a cure while crowning into her pants, feeling the head beginning to press up against her underwear and part her lips slightly. Laura, she could tell, had offered less resistance to her body and had made more progress in her pushing, the head sitting permanently, she calculated from the bulge in Laura’s pants, at around a half-crown or more.

“Hey,” she croaked hoarsely, barely able to manage anything but grunts with her clenching belly. “You—you need to get your pants down, hun. Head’s coming out.”

Painstakingly, she began to squat down, moaning as the head was pressed back slightly into her sensitive lips by the tension of her underwear. It felt so low, so full, she needed to open up, she needed to push, relieve the immense pressure, yet her friend, yes friend, not just assistant, needed her. As she squatted low, she hooked her fingers around Laura’s waistline.

“I need, urgh, I need you to get your legs together. Mmmm, we gotta get your pants off, ‘kay?”

She was surprised to see Char moving in her peripheral vision, but Laura could pay no mind, for this baby wanted out and it wanted out now.

“Grhhhhh!!! It’s coming out… mnghh!” Laura cried into the next push, bearing down and feeling the head stretch her wider and wider. Her hips were so full, her pelvis felt like it could snap, the pressure of this baby’s head - this large and heavy mass - *needed* to come out.

Char’s attempt to remove her trousers was fruitless, though the black fabric was stretchy and comfortable with the expanding of her stomach, it was not elasticated enough to be pulled over the wide angle of her legs. The baby sat so low, right at her entrance, stretching her entrance wide with the emerging crown. There was no way in hell she would be able to put her legs closer together.

Instead, she widened them further. “Hmngh! Can’t… baby… coming…I have to pushhhh-mnghhhh!” Laura’s face sunk towards the floor, dropping to her elbows and opening up her hips to the skies. It was coming out, she could feel it sliding slowly out of her into her stretchy clothing. All she could do was push…. Pant and push again.

Char watched in utter fascination as Laura pushed with total abandonment, entirely consumed with the baby coming out of her, every last thought focused on the overwhelming, intense, undeniable urge to push. The bulge in Laura’s pants grew, stretched her thinly and Char could scarcely believe that such a huge head could come from her, pass through such a narrow opening with so much force. She removed her fingers from Laura’s waistline, realizing the impossibility of such a task at this stage in Laura’s labor. She was pushing it out into her pants, and there was nothing Char could do about that except cup the growing bulge as it emerged from Laura’s opening into the straining fabric.

It was terrifying, watching Laura push without regard for anything else. As she felt a powerful contraction wrack her own reddened, exhausted belly, she knew there was no stopping this. She was giving birth and was about to push a baby out into her pants exactly as Laura was doing now. She growled fiercely, deep in her squat—the perfect position. Her knees jackknifed and she opened her hips as wide as they could go. Against her opening the fabric of her underwear arched with the coming head as she bore down immensely. Her face turned bright red with her hardest push yet.

“Oh GODDDD!” She bellowed. “It’s COMING, I’m pushing it OOUUUTTTT!”

Her lips parted, wider and wider, trembling and convulsing around the head as it burned and stretched her. She jerked, trying to escape the ring of fire and yet she couldn’t stop pushing for a minute. She was in the final stages now, and the only way the burn would stop was when she had pushed her baby into the world. Instinct took over completely. This was what her body needed her to do. This was what SHE needed to do.

Even though they were consumed with their own births, Laura found comfort that at least they were together through this. Each laboring woman was not alone.

But the strength required to birth these babies, who didn’t even exist 24 hours ago, would be down to the mother. Gasping for air Laura pushed again with everything she had, through the pressure and pain and the burning ring of fire that had her mouth open in a silent scream. The baby’s head had to be almost out by now, surely!?

Despite being beside each other Char’s bellowing voice seemed so far away to Laura. Nothing else registered beside the baby being born into her pants. She growled with another push and suddenly yelped when the head slipped fully out.

“Oh my god oh my god…” Laura muttered over and over and pushed herself back up on her knees. She scrambled at the waistband of her elasticated trousers and pulled them down to her knees along with her underwear. Her baby, she had to get to her baby, the maternal instinct cried in her head. With a trembling hand she felt the newly born baby’s head that was now wedged between her thighs. “Hi…. baby… oh my gosh you’ve got hair!” Laura was in shock, but also in awe of what her body had just done.

It was only after the head was born that Laura properly heard the cries of her friend. “Char…” she muttered and saw the other woman squatting and huffing, red-faced, chin to chest, with an obscene bulge protruding from her clothes between her wide legs.

“Oh my god Char! Your baby is coming out!”

Had Char any piece of mind she might have answered with her customary sarcasm: oh really? I wouldn’t have guessed. Instead, the only sound that emerged from her mouth was a long lowing wail that only deepened and became more guttural as the head filled her bottom so thoroughly, and it felt as though her pelvis was creaking open to allow the massive head through. She opened slowly, barely pausing to take a breath as she bore down without repose. Dimly, she was aware of Laura’s own baby dangling between her thighs, having pushed the huge head out, and with renewed efforts Char grunted the head further and further out. Her lips tautened and thinned, red with the stretch. The head reached a full crown and for a moment Char pushed and it didn’t move, solid mass wedged tightly in her opening. She gasped, scared for a moment that it was too big, that there was no way she could push something of this size out of her body.

Then she heard Laura cooing to the head between her legs, and something stirred within her. She realized that the dread she’d been facing was being replaced with something like motherhood, her body responding naturally, automatically, to Laura’s awe and wonder. Char realized that she wanted to meet this thing she had carried inside her for a mere twenty-four hours.

“C’mon BABYYYYY!” She shouted, bearing down furiously. Her lips slipped around the head, and then—with a splash of fluids and a grunt of relief, Char freed the head into her pants.

Laura watched in fascination as Char grunted the head further and further into her clothing, it was huge. Char had been fighting this throughout the entire pregnancy and in that moment Laura understood why some women balked so much away from birth. It was hard work. But then she saw a change in her friend, the way her eyebrows furrowed with determination, the slight readjustment of her hips as she took a breath; she was no longer fighting against her body and was readying herself to meet her child.

“You can do it Char, push!” Laura called as Char bore down. She wished she could move to support her friend physically but she was still mid-way through her own rapid birth to risk moving.

Tears begun to well in her eyes at the thought of their babies, the exhaustion of labor and the stress of the last 24 hours hammering her emotions.

By the time Char had birthed the head of her baby into her pants Laura was already feeling the pangs of the next contraction and the baby’s head turned slightly in the palm of her hand. “Oohhhhh… mhhh okay okay… you ready little one?” She panted, pulling in air through her nose, widening her legs apart to steady her balance and preparing herself to push again. Both hands were between her legs when the contraction really got going and all too soon she was pushing once more and felt the shoulders stretch apart her already sore lips.

With trembling fingers, Char reached down between her legs, feeling the hard slick roundness of the head she’d just pushed out between her legs. She gasped. The aftershocks of her contraction clutched at her belly.

“Oh… oh, my—that’s a baby. I just gave birth.”

The evidence was conclusive. But she could scarcely believe that she’d pushed an entire baby through her birth canal and out into her pants. The experience she’d just been through, the effort, the haze of contractions and the hard pushes as she focused on nothing but expelling her baby, and the intense sensations throughout her body. It was all unbelievable. Inching down the waistband of her trousers, Char struggled them to her shins and sank to her knees. She panted in disbelief, feeling instinctually that this was *right,* that this was what she was meant to be doing. Her identity had irreconcilably changed to that of a mother and as she caressed the head between her legs, she felt a rush of contentment. Char was a scientist, an expert in her field, but now it all paled in comparison.

She glanced up at Laura, seeing her shock and awe mirrored in her eyes as she lifted her baby from between her legs and rested it against her chest. Laura smiled exhaustedly at her.

Char began to pant as another contraction took hold.

“Ooh—“ she exclaimed. “You’re ready…. c’mon, you’re ready to be—UGH! BORN!”

Her baby slipped between her lips with a spray of fluids and immediately she sank to the floor, sighing in immense relief.

Laura fell silent with her final pushes, holding her breath as she bore down, the head filling her palm as the shoulders squeezed their way through. She gasped another breath and pushed with everything she had, this was it, she could feel it. Come on baby…

Once the shoulders were freed Laura wasn’t expecting the speed of which the baby slipped out and the hush of fluid that came with it. Catching the slippery newborn Laura gasped, relieved and shocked, and immediately brought the babe to her chest.

“Hey…. Oh my- hey baby.” She cooed, eyes welling with tears as she looked upon this little miracle that had grown in the last 24 hours. When the baby started to cry she instinctively rocked and hushed the infant “it’s okay… you’re okay.” She said, wiping the blood and fluid off the newborn's face.

Laura had barely caught her breath back when Char started pulling down her trousers and panted heavily, a baby’s head hanging between her open legs. A second later Char was mirroring Laura’s actions and pulling her own baby to her chest and sobbing with relief.

“You did it.” Laura said softly to her friend. “We did it. I can’t believe they’re real, we just had babies.”

The Spell might currently be a scientific mystery, but as the two women sat exhausted on the floor cradling their newborns, the research could wait. For now, the scientists were in awe of the new lives they’d just birthed.

[notherpuppet]

Is there any particular reason you use ship names with qpr relationships? (Like using a / or radioapple for examples) It makes it a little hard to tell what's meant to be romantic and platonic in fandoms sometimes, no shame for using them obvi and not pushing you to change your tagging or anything. Just wondering

Well the QPR I'm depicting is pretty affectionate (I mean mostly just xo's, not xxx hahaha) so even if it's NOT romantic, it probably may still be perceived as a ship between characters. I'm purposefully displaying a bond that is affectionate and loving, albeit platonic. So I still consider it a ship and that's why I tag it as such.

So with QPRs like radioapple, radiorose, almimzy, radiostatic, etc. etc. (alastor ships pretty much lol) I just figure that if people don't like to see characters in this ship, they're able to just block the tag. There are ships that I don't particularly like, but I just scroll away. It doesn't really bother me, but yknow; we get to cater a lot of our own social media experiences. There's the block and mute options for a reason.

As for ascertaining whether a ship art is QPR or not, I think someone can inquire or just do a little more legwork to figure that out themselves tbh. Some things may not have been written to be QPR, but may fit inside that idea for someone engaging in the artwork/fanfic. Some things may be intentionally written to be QPR and not coincide with a fan's taste or personal ideas. For example, someone may depict a QPR that includes sex. These are valid QPR experiences. On the flip side, someone may not be depicting a QPR and they include nothing explicit or affectionate, but it still fits into someone else's idea of what a QPR can look like. It's not black and white. There is nuance.

We should individually do the work of assessing if a fanart is something that we appreciate or not. AND YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL AN ARTIST IF YOU DON'T LIKE HOW THEY DO SOMETHING BTW. Just saying. Pretty RUDE ACTUALLY so yknow I would advocate for NOT doing that. I also don't think we need to put it on the artists to define exactly what they're depicting, since it can be a pretty difficult relationship to pin down. Affection and friendship can look very different for lots of people. And I don't think it's necessary for an artist or writer to spell out their intentions for us. Art is a means to express oneself and to have fun. If we choose to engage in an artwork, then we can also interpret it and come to conclusions of our own.

TLDR; I'm gonna go ahead and tag QPRs as their fandom ship names and I think it's up to us as users to cater social media to our tastes individually.

[lunajay33]

Save a Horse🍂

Summary: Wandering around in the apocalypse was hell until you came across a a ranch, finding a injured horse you helped it finding the owner and things getting a little heated with an older cowboy

Pairing: Cowboy Negan Smith x f!reader

Warning: Age gap, reader is in 20s Negan is mid 40s, p in v, praise, virginity lose

Inspired by @lanadelnegan stories🤎

•Masterlist•

The apocalypse hit and everything happened so fast, I was with my family at our farm for some time watching the news, listening to the horror stories on the radio, we thought that we could go unscathed since we hadn’t been affected and that all the food and water we needed was on our land but all that changed one night when a hoard of walkers ran down our farm, my parents were first trying to fight of the walkers, quickly being ripped apart their screams still lingered in my head whenever I thought about them, then it was my two sisters trying to flee but got surrounded taking them down as well, I was lucky enough to get to my truck finding an opening in the walkers and driving away from my home, leaving me all alone on the road

Now it’s been 2 years going from place to place just trying to survive, to find a reason to keep living in this cruel world, I’ve been able to dodge as many walkers as I can, that wasn’t the main problem anymore, the food shortage was what dwindled my hope

My truck had broke down a while back so now I’ve just been wandering on foot, walking through the trees trying to get some shade from Georgia summer heat when I hear a groan and thud, I follow the direction of the whines on a left of what have might caused it, walkers, people, god knows what now a days

Rounding a tree I see a horse laying down on the ground, I approached slowly not wanting to spook it having experience with horses back on the farm, kneeling in front of it petting its soft black mane

“Hey girl, what are you doing out here all alone?” She didn’t look injured she was laying down fine, maybe she just got hot it was one of the hottest days I’ve ever lived in even in Georgia

I took out one of the bottles of water I found poring some of it over her face to help cool her down then poring the rest in a bowl I had in my bag and she was quick to drink it

After some time I stood up taking her lead rope trying to get her to stand up, I couldn’t leave her here all alone for some walkers to eat her alive maybe she came from somewhere near by

Walking through the trees she would occasionally change our course more like she was leading me than I was her until we got to a break in the trees, a ranch in perfect condition, a few horses grazing the field, little sheep’s hoping around, a chicken coop and a cozy little cabin like house right in the middle of the land, a brown bronco truck parked out front

Opening the gate, closing it behind me and the horse so the other animals wouldn’t get out like she did somehow, when a deep voice stopped me in my tracks

“See ya brought Missy back, been wondering where she went off to” coming down the porch steps was a older man, cowboy hat, white shirt, blue jeans and boots, maybe it was the lack of human contact or even interactions but damn was he fine, I didn’t realize he was right infront of me till he cleared his throat breaking me out of my oogling

“Oh yeah, I found her out in the woods she must had heat exhaustion so I gave her some water” my stomach feels like it’s in knots, I haven’t felt like this in so long, he’s said a few words and I’m entranced by him

“A nice and pretty girl might just have to keep ya around darling” he smirked making my knees weak, but I still have my values I’m not just going to jump his bones even though the urge is so strong

“Oh I mean if you’re able to take me in I’ll earn my keep, help around the farm, anything I just…..I can’t stay out there alone any longer” I said praying he’d give me a chance, some hope

“Ya sure you know what you’re doing around a farm?” He asked as he looked me up and down, lingering on my chest

“I grew up on a farm, I know what I’m doing”

“Hmmm well come on in, see where you can stay” I let Missy go so she could run off with the others, following him inside, it was bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside, cute kitchen, wooden accents around the house, he kept walking down a hallways till he stopped at a room waiting for me to go in first, it was cozy, I don’t care if this place was trashy as long as I can be stress free and have someone to keep me company

“You like it?” He asked from the doorway

“I love it, thank you” I said as I sit on the bed letting out a long awaited sigh

“How long were you out there?”

“I don’t know time is hard to keep track of out there, maybe 2 years”

“Damn girl, 2 years did you atleast have someone out there?”

“My farm fell early taking my family with it when the walkers came, so it’s just been me until now”

He gave me a pitiful look it made the blood rush to my cheeks

“Come on darlin, supper should be done, should get some food in you” he said waving me out of the room and Im quick to follow him to the kitchen where I sit at the table as he dishes up some food, fresh food something I haven’t had in well forever it feels like

He sits across from me at the table taking his hat of showing his dark brown hair streaked with some grey, biting my lip to stop myself from fantasizing about running my hands through his hair, pulling on it as I feel his beard scratch against my legs

“So what’s your name darlin, like to call you something other than sweet names” he smirks obviously realizing my constant leering but he didn’t make it easy

“I’m fine with your little names but it’s y/n”

“You got a spark still considering how long you’ve been out there, how old are you even?”

“20 you?”

“Let’s just say I’m old enough to be your father”

“Not a problem for me” I said under my breath

A few weeks went by and I did what I said, working hard around the farm, waking up early to collect eggs from the chicken coop, feeding the horses and sheep, picking any ripe berries from the garden all before he was even up, no different from today, I laid berries on our plates and scrambled some eggs finishing right when he comes out of his room, scruffy hair, boxers and a black tank top showing off his tattoos, yes I earned my keep but the tension between us was growing stronger and stronger everyday, every touch, every long night of staying up talking I have to do something about it

“Morning Negan sleep well?” I asked as he sat across from me, our usual spots since that first day

“Great darlin, would’ve been better if you were next to me all night” he smirked, he’d do this tease me and act like it was nothing but it was something to me especially when I’d stay up late at night touching myself thinking of the things he’d say

“Negan you’re driving me crazy you know that” I said chomping on a strawberry

“You think I don’t hear you?”

“What?” My face flushed, please god don’t let it be what I think it is

“At night, when you think I’m fast asleep, I hear you moaning my name, whimpering when you can’t make yourself finish” he said his voice getting deeper as he leaned further across the table

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I gotta go……..go clean up the hay” I said flustered and completely embarrassed standing up and leaving the house to the barn

OH MY GOD this is so embarrassing, he’s heard me touch my self to him what is wrong with me, it’s only been a week and I can’t control myself, maybe because he’s everything I want, strong sexy makes my knees weak and panties wet, plus I have so much pent up sexual frustration, growing up on a farm and not being allowed to date led to me now, a horny 20 year old fantasizing about a man who generously gave me shelter and food, I’m a mess, a horny mess that wants to ride this man all day long

I get to the barn pitchforking any loose straw back into the pile trying to figure out what I’m suppose to do now, how do I face him again after he’s heard me moan his name

“I can hear your crazy thoughts from here darling” I look to the barn door seeing him dressed in blue jeans, cowboy boots, his cowboy hat and a brown plaid

“I can’t take it anymore Negan, obviously you know that now, please just……..”

“Just what baby?” He asks his voice deeper again as he gets closer gripping my waist, his hands alone engulfing me

“Just touch me”

He leans down grabbing the back of my thighs lifting me to straddle his hips, my arms wrapped around his shoulders now face to face

“You sure you can handle this sweetheart?”

“I need it, I need you to fuck me please I’ve been so good” I say as he litters my neck with sloppy kisses

“You have, such a good girl for me, guess you deserve a big reward for that” he smirks as he squeezes my ass, laying my down in the hay pile

“Fuck you got me so hard, you know how hard it was to not bust into your room hearing your sweet moans just begging for me to plow this pussy?” He grips the bottom of my sundress hauling it off over my head leaving me in just my panties, my tits completely exposed

Hearing him groan as his hands roam my body, from my hips up my stomach to caress my tits rubbing his thumbs over them making my panties even more soaked

“That feels so good, doesn’t feel like this *fuck* when I try” I whimper my body feeling like it’s on fire

“No one ever make you feel good darling?” He says as he leaves kitten licks against my nipples feeling like lighting shooting from them to my clit, trying to grind against his thigh between my legs

“No, no one’s ever…..”

“No ones ever touched you, you’re a virgin?” He continues to suck hickeys down my stomach stopping at the hem of my panties

“Only you” I moan needing more

“Don’t worry I’ll make you feel good baby” he removed everything he’d wearing going to throw his hat in the pile of clothes but is top him

“Stop!……keep it on”

“You like cowboys? Wanna take a ride?” He smirks as he pulls down my panties leaving us both naked

“I mean I did save your horse, it’s only right to ride the cowboy” I say as I flip him over to straddle his hips, his dick standing big thick and prominent, he’s really gonna stretch me out good

“Oh ya it’s only right” he laughs squeezing my hips hard as he helps me move them back and forth grinding on his dick getting it wet

“I need it please”

“Take your time darling” he says as he lifts me up so I’m hovering right above him feeling his tip gently pushing against me

I slowly push down feeling the pressure and stretch, it hurt god it was way bigger than my two fingers

“Fuck baby you’re so tight” he grunts

“Is it…….is it all in, you’re so big I don’t know if I can take much more” I moan uncontrollably, all this sexual frustration finally breaking free

“Just a little more, come on be a good girl and take it” he helps push me down the rest of the way till I feel his skin flush against my clit

I sigh I relief that I got it all in but the sting isn’t pleasant

“Take your time cowgirl, wanna get you nice and stretched before you try and ride your cowboy” he laughs as he sits up kissing my neck again and rubbing my clit to help distract the pain

“God I can’t wait” I say gripping his shoulders as I start moving up and down, slowly at first feeling him deeper and deeper each time

“Fuck baby this pussy is gonna be the death of me” I take his hat putting it on holding it with one hand just like I would when riding a mechanical bull, bouncing and gyrating fast and harder and deeper feeling him hit that spot where it makes me see stars and screaming his name over and over as I feel that tension build up in my lower stomach

“Come on cowgirl, cum on my dick, make yourself cum, let it out” he says meeting my thrusts over and over driving even deeper

My hearing goes fuzzy feeling like my whole body is lit up with pleasure, it’s never felt this good before doing it by myself, soon feeling a warm liquid shoot up inside me, dripping down in between us making a sticky hot mess

Coming back down to earth from that mind blowing orgasm I feel his hands roaming up and down my back, his chest pressed against mine

“Did I do it right” I moan biting my lip slowly grinding on him

“Damn darling, that was the best fuck of my life, yeah you did it right, look great doing it to, could get us to this” he says laying back in the hay hands behind his head

I sat up feeling him slide out whining when he popped out his cum dripping onto the hay as I lean down against his chest

“I want more”

“Damn baby girl, they were right good girls really are the most frustrated”

We spent the rest of the day in the barn, him taking me in every position imaginable, everyone better than the last until we were exhausted and my pussy ached so good

“Glad you found my horse that day”

“Me too Negan”

I want this man desperately damn, I’m newish to writing this kind of story so if you got any tips lmk

[mianexil]

◇ Things that make his heart melt ◇

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

⭕️ Warning: Spoilers ⭕️

💫 [ It wasn't in my plans before, but I really want to comfort these boys ]

💫 [ Cuties, I see your requests and don't forget about them. I'm going through a little stressful period right now, so it may take a little longer than I wanted, but I'm already working on it ]

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

ㅡ Suo, Sakura, Umemiya

Suo

Sincere care for him

Everyone knows that Suo is strong in every sense. He is also smart, restrained, independent and confident.

It is not uncommon for people to admit such thoughts in his direction as 《 He is strong/smart/hardy, he will cope 》, waving away unnecessary worries.

But not you. You've never neglected it and it came from the heart. You knew that Suo was far from weak and admitted it, but it never affected the level of your concern for him. Yes, he is, but this does not mean that you can take less care of him, referring to the fact that he can do it himself.

Strong people can take care of the difficulties outside and also take care of themselves. But if they can, it doesn't mean that it's easy for them.

You always paid attention to his comfort in one situation or another, did some small and inconspicuous things that actually made a big difference.

Starting from the way you imperceptibly put a cooling compress in his furin jacket pocket before patrolling on a hot day or a a small pocket warmer in winter, and ending with silent hugs at the right moment to maintain peace in his soul.

It wasn't just a superficial concern, it was about his feelings.

At first, he somehow automatically shielded himself from it, it was his defense mechanism. He didn't want to admit that he needed it in any way, he didn't want you to think that he had at least some weaknesses to know the truth.

However, time and your perseverance have done their job. Over time, Suo began to accept your truly deep concern, letting it into his heart and passing through it.

And believe me, it made his heart blossom.

Sakura

Listening and hearing

Sakura, as a person who has spent his whole life alone, is not used to conducting dialogues and generally having any long-term relationships with people.

That's why, when he first caught himself telling you about some hobby of his with a desire, and at that time you were really listening attentively to him, he felt this terribly strong and strange feeling in his chest.

Of course, at the same moment he fell into a stupor, and then he got angry because he was confused. You still don't understand why he abruptly stopped talking, flushed red in annoyance, and then abruptly said goodbye and ran away.

Poor boy, for him, these feelings seem especially strong. Because it was the first time for him.

You knew it was very difficult for Sakura to open up to people. That's why, when he started sharing his thoughts with you or telling you something, you immediately put all the worries in your head aside and focused on Sakura.

You wanted him to feel heard so that he would understand that you want to hear and listen to him

And it was at such moments that the young man's heart seemed to melt like ice under the warm rays of the spring sun.

God, you really make this boy happy.

Umemiya

Special intimate moments between you

When you are alone, he's lying on your lap, and you're stroking his head.

It is this moment that permeates Hajime's heart and soul with sparkling threads that touch his most sensitive and vulnerable points.

At this moment, he feels as if he is transported back to childhood, when he was still a carefree, happy, beloved little boy, surrounded by family love and a sense of childish lightness.

Once he had lost this happiness, these incredible sensations, but now he had found them again. In a different form, but the same happiness.

He is lying on your lap, and your fingers are tangled in his white hair while you stroke him and at this moment Umemiya feels this warmth again, he is sincerely loved again, he is again childishly carefree and happy, he is home again.

◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ㅡ ◇

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids,

Can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist?

Well, if you trust many social media posts, then the answer would be a resounding "No". Narcissistic is - apparently - a synonym for abusive, and of course you can't have a healthy relationship with an abusive partner!

But, well, social media is not always right. A lot of topics get oversimplified, terms get misused and black-or-white thinking is rampant - and "narcissistic means abusive" falls into all three of those pits.

Let's look at it a bit closer: "Abusive" describes a set of behaviors - while narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) describes, well, a personality disorder. It's a mental health condition.

I am not a trained mental health professional, so I'll use a medical source here. According to mayoclinic.org (link to article), symptoms and their intensity may vary from one affected person to the next (just like the exact symptoms and severity of depression or anxiety may vary!). A person with NPD may

have an unreasonably high sense of their own importance

have an excessive need for attention and admiration

have low/no empathy (struggle to understand or care about the feelings of others)

have low self-worth

be easily upset by criticism

struggle with social interactions

have difficulty managing their emotions

experience major problems dealing with stress 

And, again just like with other mental health conditions, NPD can negatively affect the person in a lot of areas of life. For example, struggling to manage their emotions and stress levels may make it hard for them to hold down a job and cause financial worries, or they may avoid participating in social events, which may lead to them becoming isolated and depressed etc. And yes, of course some symptoms may also lead to problems in romantic relationships.

Therapy for NPD usually centers around talk therapy, with the goal of helping the person to better understand and manage their emotions, to learn how to cope with self-worth issues, and to create/maintain healthy fulfilling relationships and communication with the people around them.

Now, you can look at all this and go "See? The social media posts are right! They are self-centered, have no empathy and are easily upset! That's abusive!" - but that'd be jumping to conclusions. None of those things are behaviors.

An autistic person may also easily get upset and they may also feel low empathy. So could a person with major depression. Yet, we do not treat "autistic" or "depressed" as a synonym for abusive. We do not assume that their symptoms will definitely lead to abusive behavior. So, why would that be different for people with NPD?

Am I saying no person with NPD has ever been abusive? Of course not. That'd be black-or-white thinking, too. What I am saying is: People with NPD are people. And people can show abusive behavior or they can not.

If someone who easily feels upset hits you, that's abuse... but hitting would be abuse, even if they didn't feel easily upset. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be hitting you. If someone with no empathy degrades and insults you, that's abusive... but that would be abuse regardless of their ability to feel empathy. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be degrading and insulting you.

A person could have NPD and behave abusive - but "some people are X and Y, so all people who are X must be Y" is a flawed logic.

So, let's circle back to the beginning: can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist? Yeah. It will be a relationship with someone who has a mental health condition and that's something to be aware of because mental health conditions do affect everyday life (duh?).

You should set boundaries and take warning signs of abuse seriously - like you should do when you date anyone, regardless of health status.

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad